


Erasure

by angrytourist



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 07:11:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2842496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angrytourist/pseuds/angrytourist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd read a book once with a similar premise...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Erasure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [righthandcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/righthandcat/gifts).



> My recipient wanted Shironeki/Kuroneki cannibalism, so I hope this works for them. Thanks to A for looking this over for me. Merry Christmas!

He was frozen in place like a statue when Kaneki wandered in, one foot on the floor and one knee bent on the side of the sofa like he'd been in the process of getting up before some distraction waylaid him.

"Welcome home," he said, swinging the other leg off the sofa and settling into a standing slouch. He buried his hands in the pockets of his dark slacks.

"But I don't live here?" Kaneki's voice went up at the end, as he was struck with the realization that he had no idea where 'here' was, nor how he'd gotten there.

His companion pulled one hand out of his pockets and began cracking his knuckles, one finger at a time. "You do now."

Kaneki shrank back, but he still closed the door behind him. 

_Trapped with a madman_ , he thought. The door clicked; he'd been locked inside. By who?

His companion said nothing. The walls were bare, no windows or clocks or signs of personalization, but a small bookshelf was situated opposite the sofa, four shelves filled. 

"I'm Kaneki," he offered. The silence was stifling. 

"Shut up," was all he got for his troubles. No name in return, only hostility.

Kaneki wanted to go home, and wherever 'here' might be, it wasn't home.

xxx

He'd read a book once with a similar premise: abducted by a serial killer and locked in a room, the protagonist struggled to survive armed only with her sharp wit and keen intellect…

Granted, Kaneki was no beautiful girl with a tragic past, and he couldn't say he was sharp or keen. He felt groggy, like he'd just come off a night of heavy drinking and still wasn't quite sober.

Also, the serial killer was probably in the room with him.

He, whoever he was, hadn't spoken again. He'd walked away from the sofa, grabbed a book from the top shelf without looking, and sat on the floor, his back turned to Kaneki. Beyond turning pages and occasionally brushing the white fringe away from his eyes, he didn't move. It barely looked like he was breathing from where Kaneki stationed himself on the couch. 

He'd read a book like _that_ too: dead strangers trapped in a waiting room. Only he was mostly sure they were both alive and not in Hell.

Mostly.

The problem was that no matter how hard he focused, Kaneki had _no idea_ how he'd gotten there. He couldn't remember much at all beyond who he was and where he was supposed to be.

Had he been drugged? Or maybe it was the result of a head injury? But he'd felt his skull all around and not felt the slightest twinge.

He was lost and confused and tired, and perhaps worst of all, he was _hungry_.

xxx

Kaneki's eyes were closed. He'd been so tired; resting his eyes for just a minute sounded like a great idea. He'd fallen asleep, he guessed, though there was no telling for how long.

Someone was standing over him.

He cracked an eye just enough to see white hair and a scowling face towering over him. His companion… cellmate? He was watching him, lips moving. He was muttering under his breath in such a low voice Kaneki couldn't catch anything but, "…doesn't get easier…"

That was… alarming.

No, understatement. That was _terrifying_.

Kaneki scrambled up and off the couch, tripping over his own feet in his haste to return to the door. "What are you doing?" He tried to sound demanding, in charge. His words fell on the wrong side of a whimper. 

The other said nothing. He watched Kaneki with a blank face for a long moment before shrugging and sitting on the couch. 

Kaneki's stomach grumbled when the other man stretched, shirt rising up to reveal a sliver of skin. 

"Is there anything to eat?" The words were out of Kaneki's mouth before he could stop himself, completely void of the suspicion and anger from the moment before. He must have looked as surprised at himself as he felt because the other man actually laughed, a raspy unpleasant sound.

"Yeah," he told Kaneki. "There is." He said nothing else.

xxx

'Delirious with hunger' wasn't a phrase Kaneki ever expected to apply to himself, though perhaps it didn't quite fit.

'Psychotic with hunger' sounded more accurate.

He'd long since abandoned the comforts of the couch or the bookshelf to cower by the door, his head resting against the frame, his fingers tracing ceaselessly against two jagged marks cut into the wood. He was so hungry. _He was so hungry_.

And that white headed bastard looked like a gourmet meal - smelled like one, too.

Kaneki had lost his mind somewhere along the way. He wasn't a ghoul, but it was as if he'd been infected by their sickness. He tried to imagine food, the burgers at Big Girl's he and Hide wasted all their spare cash on, but then he started thinking about sinking his teeth into Hide instead.

Had there been anything in his stomach, Kaneki was sure he'd have vomited.

"You don't look so good," a voice broke through the rising swell of panic. A hand brushed against his forehead as a fragrant aroma cushioned his senses. 

"You smell good," Kaneki heard himself say.

"I bet I do." The hand was gone. Kaneki chased it with his own and grabbed the other man's hand. 

And then he leaned forward and bit his index finger clean off.

Kaneki felt as though he was floating above his body, watching the scene: two heads bent toward each other, one white and one black, blood dripping between them. Noisy crunching.

"You should have just starved to death," he heard. "Everything would've been easier if I wasn't so selfish."

Hands cupped his face; Kaneki was sucked back to the present, his every sense locking in on the feel of a warm hand with a finger missing on the right side of his face, bleeding sluggishly. Liquid heat trickled down his cheek, clinging to the curve of his jaw. He pretended he was crying out his horror.

"You can't kill me," the other man said softly. 

"I'm not a ghoul." It seemed important to say.

His companion pushed him flat against the floor, his hands sliding from Kaneki's face to his chest. "Not yet," he corrected, "but don't worry. I'm working on it."

One hand went to Kaneki's wrists, bringing the underside of his forearm to his mouth. The intimacy of the gesture made Kaneki tense and grow warm all at once. The stranger trailed his mouth down the length of Kaneki's arm, pausing only to shove his thin shirt off his shoulder.

"Welcome home," the stranger repeated, one ghoul's eye and one human's eye flickering to Kaneki's face.

When he bit into the sensitive skin of Kaneki's shoulder, teeth gnashing and tearing, Kaneki found himself unable to move. Not even the searing pain of being eaten alive could force him to react. Shock, his thoughts supplied.

Kaneki closed his eyes.

xxx

Kaneki wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. The guards would come to clean up the rest soon, and thank fuck for that. He didn't know what they did with the others beyond using the remains to generate another copy, but seeing his own face in death made his skin crawl. He wanted out. 

They'd left him waiting for at least a week this time, probably longer. He needed a shower, some privacy. Using the small bathroom connected to the waiting room creeped him out. He couldn't shake the knowledge that they were always watching.

Three sharp raps on the door: Special Investigator Arima opened it and stepped inside. "You lost points for eating him," he said, handing over a crisp sheet of paper. He left a good few meters between them, one hand resting inside his blazer.

"It's been a long time since you fed me." Kaneki didn't mind if he sounded contrite. He knew he was as good as a kept pet, a cat long since declawed. Arima's caution was flattering but unwarranted.

"This should hold you for some time." Arima glanced over the remains. "You're dismissed. Debriefing at 0800 hours," which was laughable considering Kaneki had no idea what time it was to begin with. But he stepped around Arima anyway, routine dictating his every move. He paused just outside the doorway when Arima called out to him: "You left your book."

"I've already finished it," Kaneki said, drumming his fingers against the outside of his thigh.

"Is it any good?"

Kaneki turned around, unnerved by Arima's chattiness. "It is, but it's… different. Not for everyone." Even more impulsively, "Help yourself if you'd like." He turned on his heel and fled the room as Arima pocketed a well-worn copy of The Black Goat's Egg. 

Tired, that was all, he was just so _tired_ , running on empty and ready to crash. The meal had been welcome, as surreal and grotesque as it was needed, and now he could finally rest.

He stripped and stumbled through a shower on autopilot, barely giving himself a passing glance in the mirror as he stepped out of it. The sight of black bleeding from the roots of his hair tripped him up for a moment - but no, it was time for sleep, not introspection. Not worry. There'd be time for the rest later.

xxx

Points deducted for 'giving in to his primal urges' really translated into 'time added to his sentence'. The CCG had kept him for six months so far, half of it just to recuperate. 

He wondered if he'd ever be free of the organization's claws.

Kaneki scratched a third tally by the door when they returned him to the waiting room. He didn't acknowledge where he knew the cameras were, and he didn't look at the new gap on the bookshelf.

Instead he took a seat on the sofa cross-legged, closing his eyes.

Destroy who he was. Reach his potential. Erase the stain on his existence. 

Kaneki let his mind focus on the task at hand, letting time slip away from him. When the door opened again, he would be ready.

xxx

The lights flickered three times.

Kaneki didn't need the warning. He could hear footsteps, clumsy and newborn, stumbling down the corridor toward him.

The door opened.

"Welcome home," Kaneki said with just a touch of sarcasm. His copy didn't notice.

It frowned and wrinkled its brow at him. "Where am I?"

Kaneki crossed the room to the bookcase. Don't engage, Arima had told him. 

Kaneki grabbed a book at random and sat on the floor, prepared to wait the monster out.


End file.
